The Seven Deadly Sins
by kamikumai
Summary: Snapshots exploring both Sam and Dean and their relationship with each other in sets of doubledrabbles reflecting the Seven Deadly Sins. Warning: Wincest.


**A Word from the Author:** This is dedicated to the Siren of Hell for all the musing she brings to my life.

**Note:** Each passage set to a sin is exactly 200 words long, except for the last which is 400. This was a challenge I set myself to write, and I hope you enjoy it.

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**Seven Deadly Sins**

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**Pride**

Sam recalls that once upon a time he was proud of his family, of the work that his father and brother did, and of the fact that they were heroes who fought monsters and saved people. This vaguely recollected sense of awed and amazed pride is the reason for his current confusion as to why the hell he had ever started to feel the tendrils of doubt and shame that had curled around his young heart and had hardened it against the only two people left in the world that belonged to him. When exactly was it that he had learned to hate the things they did, things he had once believed to be the most important and worthwhile in the world?

Sam thinks it may have begun at that very first moment when he'd been praised by a teacher, for his sharp intellect and his quick mind. Looking back, Sam is cut to the quick by the realization that his ugly shame and petty hatred had been born at the precise moment that he'd learnt to take utmost pride in _himself_, and himself alone.

Sam wonders what his world would be like now had life taught him modesty instead.

* * *

**Sloth**

Dean was not an active person by nature. It was circumstance that had sucked him into this way of life. Dean was nonetheless a man of simple pleasures. But even more than he liked women, flirting and sex, he loved to be able to lie down and relax, to drift into a contented sleep, muscles burning, skin tight around his eyes from fatigue: all signs of a job well done.

Dean had gradually come to realize that for all the momentary joy a warm and willing woman could bring him, the sure knowledge that Sam was no more than a meter away, sleeping the sleep of the dead, brought him such a profound sense of happiness that he couldn't even begin to explain.

Despite the near constant danger, and despite the trials to come, it was lazy moments such as these that Dean cherished most. Somewhere along the line, Sam had become Dean's safety blanket, a soothing comfort that somehow managed to keep the nightmares at bay.

If given the chance Dean would lie here, like this, forever, with Sam just close enough for the fingers of Dean's outstretched hand to gently run across his goose-bumped skin.

_Stay, Sammy… always._

**

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**

**Gluttony**

Sam had had the best of both worlds. He'd met the girl of his dreams. He'd managed to get himself a full ride on the road to success. He'd studied in a field, where he felt he'd make a difference, to be a person who could change the lives of many and help shape a _country_.

He'd also had a brother who'd loved him more than Sam thought a person could ever love another and still be themselves. He'd trained since young, to fight against real evil. He'd learnt to protect himself, and others. To save lives and help _people_. But soon he'd found it wasn't enough. That's why he'd left, to forge a future all by himself. He'd wanted to hold his family close, his brother closer still but he'd been forced to make a choice, one way or the other.

All he had wanted was to gorge himself on 'the normal'. This concept he'd heard of and fantasized about, but never really experienced. He had feasted to his heart's content. But still he hungered for more, hungered for that which he'd left behind.

Pity the two worlds to which he wished to belong, when merged, went utterly wrong.

**

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**

**Envy**

There was little in this world that Dean was envious of. He'd learnt at a young age that being so only led to hardship and misery.

He remembered a time before, when he alone had been beloved to his mummy and daddy. But the arrival of Baby, to Dean's young mind, changed all that. Baby had brought with him stinkiness and crying, and some sort of sickness that made Dean's mummy and daddy ignore him. It wasn't long after mummy brought Baby home that Dean decided that maybe the solution would be to get rid of it. It wasn't like it did anything special.

Thinking back, Dean had to smile, the look on his mum's face when she'd found him with his colored markers scribbling $1 price signs all over baby Sammy…

Dean's smile turned wistful. If only he'd known then how much Sammy was worth, maybe he'd have appreciated it, fought for it just that little bit harder. And just maybe, Sam wouldn't have had to go.

There was little in this world that Dean was envious of, but the night he discovered someone else had realized Sam's true worth... He'd never resented anyone so much in his life.

**

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**Wrath**

Sam had been angry before. Hell, at one stage his life had consisted of nothing but anger. In fact, anger was almost like an old friend to Sam; the kind you tried to avoid, who ended up tied around your neck, dragging you under.

This anger though was new. It didn't burn as it normally did for Sam, hot and white but quick to die. No, this anger was slow and cold. It snuck up on him, and chilled him to the bone. It slivered just beneath his skin, raising his hairs on end.

It took him weeks to realize what it meant. When he did, he sprayed the pretty waitress serving them with a mouthful of soda.

This anger, Sam realized, was borne of fear. It lapped at him slowly. Patiently, placidly, deceptively gentle. Underneath, however, Sam could feel its tide pulling, growing stronger and stronger upon each return.

It was the touch of strangers that fueled it, their falsely shy glances and undressing eyes, appreciative smiles and coy, seductive voices.

And every time, Sam would think, rage chilling his features and freezing his normally warm eyes, _would this be the one who would steal Dean away from him?_

**

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**

**Lust**

Dean was accustomed to lust. In fact, he had considered it to be one of his favourite past times, until one day, when Dean was conducting one of his usual top-of-the-range evil master mind pranks…

He had chosen the most opportune time frame for the deed; when Sam would take his shower but for some unknown reason leave his clothes in their shared room, vulnerable to any attacks.

However, the moment Sam had stepped out of the bathroom, dripping wet, with naught but a tower hanging haphazardly low on his hips, Dean had found himself struck silent. His mouth gaped, his eyes bulged, and to his utter chagrin so did another feature of his anatomy.

Sam had looked at him suspiciously before enquiring what was wrong. Tongue-tied, Dean had an indescribably inappropriate thought: he suddenly found himself wishing that Sam would come help him untie it.

A moment of silence lapsed between them, before Dean managed to choke out something to the effect of being in dire need of coffee, and scampered out of the room.

Burning, from the inside out, Dean leaned against one of motel's grungy outer walls, desperately trying to pin down the viciously thrashing demon within.

**

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**

**Greed**

For days, weeks, months on end, their hunger grew, evolved and stretched the bounds of their restraint. For so long, they had lived in each other's pockets, close as close can be. Only to discover, they could be closer still. It was with great hesitance that each made moves, trying to judge how far they could push, without breaking, or being broken. It was a gradual process, one that functioned as an almost unconscious driving force for them both. Touches and looks shared, held and lingered. Longer, and longer, each time. The desire to possess more and more and more was an insatiable need that churned within them, making them feel nauseous at the implications, and yet exhilarated at the possibilities.

Nevertheless, this diffidence remained. Fear stilled them even as lust incited them. It was not, however, lust that drove them. As they both came to acknowledge, it was more. It was longing so profound it consumed.

However, it wasn't long before this unfulfilled craving that hungered within them became dangerous. As such all-consuming feelings are oft distracting, and especially given the circumstances brought about by their line work, such distractions could easily get either, if not both, of them killed.

They'd had many close calls over the last few months, and because of this the time for something to be done drew ever nearer.

For the outside spectator, perhaps, it might have seemed too easy. But for all that, we cannot even begin to comprehend the depth of their inner turmoil; the thoughts and terror these changes wrought. Still, there was little either could do to avoid it. In fact, to avoid it was a fate worse than either could endure. For all that these two brothers were strong, and for all the strength they could find in one another, sometimes strength too rigid is frailer than we can say.

It was undoubtedly their ability to adapt, their proclivity for survival that allowed them the concessions required to meet halfway. Somehow though, halfway, soon became all the way, and from there curiosity and relief took over. Feelings returned; touches, gestures, licks, caresses, bites, strokes, plunges, thrusts too. Their confidence in themselves, as well as each other, and their knowledge of one another, in the truest sense, was finally realized.

But never has their hunger ceased, no matter how much they feast or devour…

For theirs is an eternal love.


End file.
